


The Eyes of the Storm

by AgentOfShip



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 1830s, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gossip, Gothic, Lighthouse Keeper Fitz, Mystery, Strangers to Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:55:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24038491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentOfShip/pseuds/AgentOfShip
Summary: Jemma Simmons rather enjoys her new life in a little town of Maine despite all the gossiping about her being so scandalously unmarried and living alone at 25. The only thing she's missing is a real friend. That is until she meets the mysterious lighthouse keeper whose talent for fixing things seems to exceed his reputation.A lighthouse keeper and mysterious single woman Jemma fic set in the 1830ish.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 128
Kudos: 154





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to @LibbyWeasley and @Blancafic for their help with this story and making my words better.  
> This whole story is based on a single comment from Blanca on another fic where Fitz joked about his mother telling him he'd be a good lighthouse keeper :D The image remained stuck in our heads and this is what I came up with!  
> Don't forget to check out Tumblr to see the gorgeous moodboard Blanca made for this fic!

Grey clouds were gathering low over the horizon, the wind engulfing her skirts feeling like a thousand icy fingers. Jemma tightened the scarf around her neck and quickened her pace. The sky had still been blue when she had turned back and decided to make her way home along the shore. 

There was still a long way to go before the rocks started to take over the sand and she would find the road that started at the lighthouse and climbed up into the cobbled streets of the little town Jemma now called home. 

Watching it from afar, it didn't look different from England at all. Even the weather was the same. It was strange in fact how two places so far away could be so similar. As if Europe and America had once been a single gigantic continent. Jemma didn't mind that. It hadn't been the landscape she had wanted to escape when she boarded the ship to Maine, but the people. Oh of course, people found her peculiar here as well but not because they knew too many things about her, because they knew so little. Although the fact that she was twenty-five and unmarried seemed like enough to shot her curious glances when they thought she wasn't looking. 

But that was alright. Those she could deal with. She just wished she had someone. Just one person she could talk to and who would understand what she said and have more interesting things to say back to her. A real friend, that was what she needed. Or at least, she thought she did because she never had one of those before. She had cousins she liked well enough and neighbors friendly enough to make spending time with them bearable but no one she trusted enough to bare her soul to them.

By the time she made it to the end of the beach, she was glad for the light shining on top of the lighthouse. Even though it was only the beginning of the afternoon, the fog had become so dense that without this light, she might have missed the road completely. Half an hour later, when she pushed open the door to her cottage overlooking the little town, she felt chilled to the bones. But it didn't matter. The fire would soon warm her up and she had gathered very promising specimen on the beach. And she had all afternoon to study them. 

Hooking her coat, hat and scarf on the hanger by the door, she hurried to the main room to put her findings on the big table in the center and went to revive the fire in the earth. The room was supposed to be a parlor but the dimensions and large south facing windows made it perfect for a laboratory of sorts. Her guests –not that she was expecting to have many in the foreseeable future– would have to be entertained in the hall that served as dining and living room. And she didn't think the town ladies would very much enjoy having tea surrounded by all the specimens preserved in jars on the shelves on the walls or mistake one of her chemical reagents for a bottle of cherry. 

Lining up her findings on the table, she hesitated for a moment and finally decided on the very small fossils she had picked up at the edge of the beach. It wasn't the most urgent but she hadn't had the opportunity to use her microscope ever since she'd settled in the cottage and she wanted to see if she could determine what kind of ancient creatures had been trapped and left an imprint on the stone forever. She took the first one, composed of two round parts and a wiggly line that made it look like a little like a smiling face and brought it to the smaller table by the window. She gently placed it under the microscope and placed the hair that had escaped her bun behind her ear to look into it.

"Oh no," Jemma whispered as she pulled back before looking back in, as if the problem might have been resolved on its own in the meantime. But no, the fossil didn't look bigger at all and the image was completely blurry. The instrument must have taken a shock during the long journey from England and the lenses been misaligned. Or at least, she hoped that was what it was because if they were broken, she would have to wait for months to get a replacement, not to mention how expensive it would be. But, as it was, she might still have to travel to Portland to find someone who would be able to fix it as she doubted there was an artisan here who had the skill for it. 

Well, it would undoubtedly take time so Jemma decided she better enquire about it as soon as possible. So she put out the fire and put her coat back on to make her way to the grocer's. The woman who worked there didn't like her very much but she always seemed to know everything about everyone and loved showing it. So Jemma thought it was a good place to start.

* * *

"You should ask Mr Fitz, the lighthouse keeper." 

"The lighthouse keeper?" Jemma repeated.

"Yes miss," the woman answered, putting emphasis on the last word like she always did. "Always tinkering with all kinds of weird things. And he fixed the lights in here not a month ago."

"Oh." That was nice but she didn't think it meant he'd be able to fix a microscope.

"And always watching the stars with that big instrument of his."

"Oh. You mean he has a telescope?" Jemma asked, her interest now definitely piqued. 

"Yes. That," the woman, misses Fiddle, answered as she squinted her eyes at Jemma. "But don't go getting any ideas!"

"Ideas about–"

"He's got his eyes on my Bessie!" 

"And Bessie is your…"

"That's my girl over there," she answered, pointing at the timid blond girl stacking boxes on a shelf. "He's always real nice and polite with her when he comes here, always smiling and everything if you know what I mean." She had a smug, knowing look on her face that only confused Jemma even more. 

"That he's nice to her?" Jemma offered.

"Exactly!" the older woman exclaimed. "Connie over there at the flower shop thinks he's got his eye on her girl but I don't see him come to her shop nearly as often as he comes to mine."

Jemma almost remarked that he probably needed flowers less than he needed food but that wasn't a conversation she was interested in continuing so she just smiled, thanked Mrs Fiddle for her help and walked away as fast as she could. The young girl's cheeks were bright red when Jemma passed by her on her way out and she felt bad for her. She couldn't be more than sixteen and her mother was already willing to give her to any man with a little money who laid his eyes on her. Jemma could do without the strange looks directed at her in here but it was all worth it for the relief of not having her mother trying to marry her to any single man in Sheffield.

* * *

Fitz grunted as the second knock resonated. Louder than the first. He'd just settled at his desk to work on the potential new mechanism for the lighthouse mirrors he had first thought of about three weeks ago. The sky was a nice, dark grey and a dense fog was covering the town. It should have been the perfect conditions to be left alone until the next morning at least. 

Another knock. 

He sighed as he stood up. The lights were on so he couldn't pretend not to be home. He made his way down the spiraling stairs he could now use with his eyes closed, making sure to be careful on the sixth step from the bottom that was higher than the others. It better not be one of those poor girls sent by their mum under a ridiculous pretense. Because he was not in the mood for that. 

Not that he ever was. 

"Good afternoon. Are you Mr Fitz?"

Fitz's eyes widened. So not a girl from town. The woman in front of him sounded British, her accent very high-society, and she seemed to be about his age with brown curls escaping her bun and bright hazel eyes. The timid smile on her lips grew wider and she rolled her eyes. 

"Ah. Of course, you are. I don't suppose many men live in this lighthouse. I'm miss Jemma Simmons," she said, extending her hand to him. In retrospect, she probably wanted him to shake it but his instinct and his mum's lessons took over and he took her hand to place a kiss on it instead. He only remembered how unproper it was if the lady wasn't wearing gloves when a little chuckle escaped her lips. 

Fitz looked down as he let go of her hand, clearing his throat to give himself composure as he felt his cheeks grow hot. At least, she was amused, not shocked.

"Nice to meet you. How can I help you?"

"I'm new in town and I've been told you were the one I should go to about broken things." 

"Oh…sure. So what is it? Is your plumbing acting out or maybe—"

"It's my microscope." Fitz's eyes grew wide. "See, I hadn't had the the opportunity to use it since I moved into the cottage and I picked up some rather interesting specimens on the beach this morning. But when I put one under the microscope, the image was all blurry and not at all magnified."

"Oh, of course!" Fitz let out and she frowned, obviously not expecting such an answer. 

"Of course?" she repeated.

"Ah no, not about that. It's just… I heard about you in town and I think I saw you on the beach a few times."

"Oh, you did?" 

"I don't miss much from up there," Fitz replied gesturing towards the stairs and she nodded. "Not many ladies take such long walks on their own, especially when the weather is bad." 

"I'm not most ladies."

He probably could have said that from what he'd heard about her in town, even though most of it probably was untrue. The long walks and why she owned a microscope when most people didn't even know what it was were certainly intriguing but there was more to it. Something in her posture and in the fierce look in her eyes that said that, not only she was indeed not like most ladies but that she was also proud of it. Which Fitz happened to like a lot.

"I wouldn't dare think that, Miss Simmons," Fitz replied and her eyes sparked with something softer but just as intriguing as she smiled at him. 

"So, do you think you can help me, Mister Fitz? I know this isn't exactly your ordinary household equipment but I've been told you were quite the genius and it would really—"

"Actually, I think I might," he cut her off, pushing his chest forward to look more confident than he sounded.

"Really?"

"Yes. I've been experimenting with my telescope and the results were quite satisfying."

"Oh, of course. I've heard you liked watching the stars! You must tell me all about it," she let out enthusiastically. "And after all, a telescope and microscope are based on—"

"The same laws of optics and physics," he finished for her. 

Her smile was so bright he wondered if she shouldn't be up there in the tower, guiding the ships home. 

"So hum... should I bring it here or—"

"Oh no, it's a rather fragile mechanism and I'm guessing it has been damaged during the journey from England."

She nodded.

"So better not damage it further. I should come to your cottage and... I mean if that's alright with you. I realize it might not be... um... proper."

"That would be perfectly fine, Mister Fitz. When can you come?"

"How about now?"

* * *

“Is there something wrong?”

Fitz startled at Miss Simmons' voice. She was already out of her coat and scarf so he must have stood in place longer than he thought. More strands of hair had escaped her bun as they walked and her cheeks were pink but he couldn't have been sure if it was from the cold air or by how excitedly she had talked to him about the fossils she was hoping to look under the microscope. She really was quite different from anyone in this town, or anywhere else. And her house seemed to be a reflection of it.

"Mr Fitz?" she repeated. 

“I'm sorry, it's just…this is not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?” she asked, raising her eyebrows as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Fitz had actually meant the shelves filled with strange jars on the wall opposite the door, the many scientific instruments on the large table or the bird skeleton hanging from the ceiling. But as she waited with a defiant look in her eyes, Fitz just couldn't help remembering some of the most ridiculous rumors he'd heard in town. 

“If I believe the town folk," he said with a grin. "Probably toads, crows, a big black cauldron, a flying broomstick... possibly.”

Her eyebrows raised up even higher.

“Oh really? And why did you come if you thought I was a witch?”

“Well, I don't want to make a witch angry by refusing to help." She frowned. "But mostly, I usually don't listen to what the town folk say.”

Her lips quirked up and she gestured for him to follow her into what seemed to be a laboratory of sorts. 

“Really? Because they have very nice things to say about you.”

Fitz grunted and that seemed to amuse her even more.

“That's because I'm the only one who knows how to fix anything. And possibly because of my family name and money.”

When his father had sent him off all the way across the Atlantic after he'd inherited a property on the coast of Maine, Fitz had thought it a way to get rid of him, and a punishment for being, well, himself. And in his father's mind, it probably was. But it had in fact been an excellent surprise. Minus the nosy and meddling town folk. Fitz had inherited the Lighthouse keeper position because his distant cousin had died without leaving an heir and, in his father's mind, Fitz would never be able to make a successful marriage anyway. But he had underestimated the value of the very nice house and grounds that came with the position, not that Fitz used it much. He was fine with remaining on top of the tower most days. He had all the space, time and sunlight he could ever hope for to work on his projects.

“Ah yes, I hear you're about to propose to at least five young ladies.”

Fitz could see through the false innocent smile on her face and knew that was probably an exaggeration of what she had heard but he still couldn't help grunting at the notion.

“That's why I stopped being polite. Can't hold a bloody door without people thinking you're courting their daughter.”

“Oh so, that's why you're using such fool language in my presence? So I wouldn't be tempted to throw myself at you?"

Fitz felt heat rise to the back of his neck under her gaze. She had her arms crossed over her chest rather sternly but Fitz couldn't help noticing how it highlighted the rise and fall of her chest rather enticingly. Heat was threatening to take over his whole face when he finally found his words.

"I'm so sorry. That was very rude of me. Of course I didn't do it on purpose to put you off the idea of-of…Not that _I want you_ to pursue the idea or…I mean, there'd be nothing wrong with that. I'm sure you're a very—"

"That's alright, Mr. Fitz," she finally stopped him and Fitz blew out a breath of relief. Her lips pulled up into a smile. "I was only teasing. I'm not looking for a husband and please, feel free to use any language you want in my presence. My delicate ears can surely take it as long as you're fixing my microscope."

Fitz glared at her slightly and her smile only widened. Which prompted one from him.

“Maybe you are a little wicked after all.”

"Wouldn't want to ruin my reputation. It's everything to a lady."

“Of course,” Fitz replied with a little curtsy and she laughed as her posture relaxed.

He followed her to a small table in front of the large window where a series of objects were neatly aligned and marked with a date in an elegant handwriting. There were sea shells, fossils, all kinds of plants and other, stranger things that Fitz had never seen before. And in the middle of the table was the microscope. It was thing of beauty really. Made of brass, its design was simple but elegant with the tube containing the lenses and a curved element holding the observed specimen in place. Miss Simmons was looking at it with fondness and worry like she would her ill child. Which, strangely, Fitz completely understood. 

"See, I'm rather certain that the lenses have been misaligned during the journey. Or well, at least I hope that's it..."

For the first time since she had knocked on his door, she seemed uncertain, worrying the material of her purple dress between her fingers. Fitz gave her a reassuring smile. 

"Whatever it is, I'm sure I'll find a way to fix it." And he was. Fitz wasn't confident about a lot but fixing things was what he did best. 

She nodded, her lips pulling into a tight smile. 

"Can I help you with anything?"

"No. At least not until I get a peek inside. But in the meantime, I would love to know how you came to be in possession of such an instrument."

* * *

Fitz worked at the rhythm of Jemma Simmons' melodic voice. Her eyes had seemed to spark at the memory his question had evoked and she had soon started retelling him how she'd always followed her father, a renowned doctor and university professor, as a child, marvelling at the detailed sketches and the wonderful complexity of the human body. Fitz didn't share this specific interest. He was more comfortable with humans organs being where they should be. Inside people's bodies. But he understood the need to find out how it all worked. The body was just a very complicated machine after all. 

Her passion and bright mind had led her to pursue her quest for knowledge. It hadn't been easy with her being a woman and her parents insisting she finds a husband before everything else but it had somehow led her here. Halfway across the world with a comfortable house and all the time in the world to... well, Fitz wasn't exactly sure what she was doing in this house or how she could afford to live alone in it. She had been rather vague about it and Fitz didn't think it was his place to ask. 

Not to mention that he couldn't resist explaining everything he did when she seemed so genuinely interested in it. She had guessed correctly but realigning the lenses had actually been the easy part. Taking the whole device apart and putting it back together, that had been the real challenge. Miss Simmons had seemed to greatly approve of the way he'd patiently put every screw and minuscule part on the table in the order in which he'd taken it apart. She had also volunteered to take notes about the whole process. And now, he was securing the last screw with the tiny cork screw he'd crafted himself to work on a machine he had designed. 

"Well, this is the moment of truth," Fitz said sitting back in his chair and wiping his hands on his trousers. 

She smiled excitedly and reached for a jar full of minuscule sea shells. She picked one with a small plier and put it under the microscope before looking into it.

"So?"

"You tell me," she replied, looking up at him and obviously biting her lip not to smile too wide.

Playing along, Fitz took a step forward and looked into the microscope.

"Wow!"

Who knew such a small thing could be so complex when you looked at it closely? Miss Simmons was smiling wider when Fitz looked up. 

"Thank you so much," she said, hesitating before taking a step closer and reaching for his hand. Fitz shivered at the contact and not only because her hands were frozen. But he'd pressed his lips to her hand only a few hours ago. He shouldn't be so surprised by her gesture. Still, she noticed his discomfort and let go immediately. "Sorry...I-I'm just very grateful. How much do owe you, Mister Fitz?"

"What? Oh, no, no, no, you don't owe me anything. I have a comfortable income and—"

"But I insist. I've taken so much of your time and on such short notice."

"No really. Getting to work on such a fine piece of technology was my pleasure."

She bit her lip, seeming rather uncomfortable and, for a moment, Fitz wondered if he'd made a social blunder. But she spoke before he had the time to say anything.

"Then stay for dinner. It's getting late and this is the least I can do. I'm not much of a cook," she started, already turning around towards what Fitz supposed was the kitchen. "But I make good soup and I have some very nice cheese and bread and—"

"That would be lovely," Fitz cut her off. "But it will be nighttime soon and I have to be at the lighthouse. A storm is brewing."

"Oh. Of course."

Fitz felt both guilty and delighted at the disappointment in her voice. There was nothing he wanted more than to spend more time talking about science with this wonderful, intriguing young woman but he had a duty. He would invite her to share his sad little dinner at the lighthouse but that would be inappropriate and he didn't want people to talk about her even more. 

"Then you have to come for tea soon!"

"With pleasure," he replied with a soft smile and that seemed to put her at ease.

She looked at him with those soft but piercing honey eyes for a moment longer before moving to the side. 

"Isn't it ghastly up there all alone during the storm?" she asked as she went to open the door for him. 

"It's not. Well, not for me at least. The elements make me feel alive. I'd be more worried down here with all the neighbors watching my every move."

"Good thing they think I'm a witch, then." Fitz laughed. "But don't worry, I know how to defend myself Mister Fitz." 

"Just Fitz," he replied almost automatically. "And I don't have a single doubt about that Miss Simmons."

"Please, call me Jemma." 

"Jemma," he repeated with a smile. He liked the sound of that. 

For once, the town people had been right. Not about Jemma Simmons being a witch or wanting to steal their husbands or any other such nonsense. But she was definitely the most interesting person that had set foot in this town in a long time. Fitz smiled all the way back to the lighthouse. He was impatient to discover just how much.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a cold night but the sky was clear and more stars appeared with every second Jemma spent looking up. She pulled her hood over her head and started down the deserted cobblestone street. She couldn't hope for a more perfect night for what she had planned.

There was only a crescent moon, and even with the little lantern she had brought along, it was still much darker than Jemma was used to back in England. She had to watch her step carefully to avoid tripping on the uneven pavement. During her few seasons in London, she has hardly ever been alone anyway, especially after dark and when on foot. Somehow, not wanting to be driven everywhere in a carriage was considered the most scandalous act of rebellion by her mother. Smiling to herself, Jemma congratulated herself once more for running away from all of it and towards a much more exciting future. 

In the quiet streets, her boots clinked on the cobblestones loudly and she spied a few curtains being pulled back as she passed certain houses. Hopefully her hood would hide her from prying eyes. Not that she really cared but she could probably do with fewer rumors going around about her. 

Finally, she reached the lower part of town and stopped a moment to orient herself, lifting up her lantern above her head. The lighthouse was easy enough to follow from afar but once in the lower part of town where streets were so narrow, it wasn't as easy. 

"A proper lady shouldn't be wandering the streets alone after dark, you know." 

Jemma startled and almost dropped her lantern before turning around. Fitz stepped out of the shadow with a crooked grin, looking much too proud of himself. She rolled her eyes.

"And a proper gentleman shouldn't hide in the shadows to scare the lady." 

" _I_ have been trying not to be too proper in the hope ladies would expect fewer marriage proposals from me. Nothing untoward of course just, you know, plain rudeness."

"Well, _this_ is an excellent start." 

"Thank you," Fitz replied, grinning even wider. "And I did offer to come to your house and escort you."

"And I told you I didn't need it but that doesn't mean you should hide like a—"

"But you were lost," he cut her off.

She glared at him. 

"I wasn't, I— You're doing an especially good job of making me not want you to propose tonight, you know?" 

He laughed but then his expression softened and he reached for her gloved hand. "I'm glad you could come," he said before pressing a light kiss to her knuckles. "Shall we?" 

She nodded as she let out a small contented sigh. She could never remain cross with him for very long. Actually, the fact that he didn't act any differently with her than he would have with a male friend was why she liked him so much. That, his fantastic mind and the infinite sweetness he was trying so hard to hide from everyone else. She looped her arm around his offered one and, together, they made their way towards the beach. 

Fitz had already installed his telescope there, with a blanket and a little basket right next to it, a reasonable distance away from where the small waves were licking the sand. Which seemed very wise. It was a very fine piece of technology, with its dark wood and brass ornaments gleaming with the light of the stars, it would have been a shame to damage it in any way.

"So what are we watching tonight?" Jemma asked, practically bouncing with excitement. She knew all there was to know about the stars and planets but it was all theoretical knowledge and she had never had the opportunity to actually watch them with more than just her eyes. Which was incredibly frustrating since she had been in the presence of a telescope several times during her seasons in London. But apparently, when at a ball, a proper young lady was supposed to be more interested in the number of rooms a man had in his house and how well they were furnished rather than what was in those. And she was certainly not supposed to go about and touch a man's telescope when she wasn't invited to do so. Which was really quite ironic because if Lord Milton hadn't sided with her mother and offered to show the her stars, then she might, at least, have considered his marriage proposal and things would be rather different today. 

Not that she regretted any of it. She was certain that Fitz knew how to use his telescope much better than boring old Lord Milton and watching the stars with him would be a lot more entertaining. Ever since he'd spoken to her about all the time he spent watching the sky at night that first time he came to have tea with her, she had wanted to join him more than anything. The weather being what it often was in their part of the world, it had taken a few weeks before the sky was finally clear enough for them to do it but here they finally were.

"How about you see for yourself?" he answered, gesturing towards the telescope with a wide grin she couldn't help but reciprocate. The fact that he seemed just as excited to show her as she was to see them just endeared him to her even more. "I suggest you try finding the moon then direct it a little bit to the right to find those two brilliant spots." 

Jemma put her little lantern on the ground and looked into the eyepiece and frowned immediately. It was rather disappointingly blurry. 

Fitz took her hand to direct it on another part of the telescope. His touch was gentle as always but it still surprised her. His hands were always so warm even when it was as cold as it was that night. "Here, you can adjust the focus with this and," he started before taking her other hand and directing it to another part of the telescope. It might have been simpler to explain all this before she started looking in but she had been rather impatient so he must not have wanted to make her wait any longer. He was such a sweet, sweet man. "And you can use this part to search for the portion of the sky you want to watch." 

"Oh my!" Jemma exclaimed, physically taken aback as the image in the telescope finally became perfectly clear, showing her the moon with all its craters and reliefs. "So many details!" she said, turning towards Fitz who had a big, fond smile on his face. 

"Pretty incredible, isn't it?" 

"It really is!"

"Now look to the right. Tell me what you see." 

The closest bright spot that Jemma had initially thought was a star was in fact red. "Oh this is Mars, isn't it?" Fitz hummed his assent and Jemma kept moving to the right to find the other bright spot, this one more of a yellowish color and too big to be a distant star. "Venus?" 

"Yes! See? You didn't need me after all," he said with a chuckle. 

"Of course I do. You're an excellent teacher and the best possible company I could hope for." 

"And in this town, it... doesn't mean a lot." 

Jemma knew he was teasing but she'd also learned that he often tended to underestimate himself, which was what made him the sweet, modest man that he was but it made her sad as well because he deserved the world and every good thing that happened to him. 

"Oh Fitz, you know what I mean, don't you? You're the best, most precious friend I ever had." 

He bowed his head down at her words and Jemma was sure he was blushing even though she couldn't see it in the cold glow of the moonlight. 

"And you're the best, most brilliant and scandalous friend I ever had and you have no idea how happy I am that you chose our boring little town to settle in."

And with that he took her hand again and pressed a kiss to her now bare knuckles with a little crooked grin that told her he knew exactly how improper it was this time. Now who was the scandalous one? 

For the next half hour, Fitz used the telescope to make her see more stars and constellations, even the name he had come up with for a specific crater of the moon, until there was nothing more they could watch tonight and they settled on the blanket Fitz had brought. Jemma couldn't keep her eyes from the sky though. Now that they were completely adjusted to the darkness, she could see so many stars. With the ocean meeting the sky on the horizon and the beach stretching out for more than a mile, Jemma had never felt so small and yet exactly where she should be. 

"You look like I felt when you first showed me all those things in the microscope." She turned to him and was startled for a second. She'd thought his big, beautiful eyes were the color of the deep blue sea, which was fitting someone who spent his days looking at the ocean, but now they reflected the stars and it was breathtaking. 

She raised a questioning eyebrow. 

"Like you're in awe."

She couldn't help smiling. It was sometimes a little confusing how he seemed to read her mind. Although in that instance, he probably didn't know all the reasons she was in awe at this precise moment.

"I really am. Thank you so much, Fitz. You just expended my little universe." 

He smiled back. "And you expanded mine by showing me all the little things I didn't even know existed."

"It's rather fitting, you know," Jemma said, looking back towards the stars. "I showed you the very small and you showed the infinitely big. In a way, we--"

"We complete each other."

They shared another smile.

"Absolutely."

After that, they stayed on the beach longer than Jemma had intended. They watched the constellations and shared the lemon biscuits Fitz carried in his little basket. She had learned two important things about Fitz in the weeks she'd known him. The first was that, together, they never ran out of things to talk about and second, whatever the time of day, Fitz was always hungry for something sweet.

"We'll have to do that again in a few months," Fitz declared after he's had his fill of biscuits. 

"Do we really have to wait that long?" Jemma would be here, with Fitz, every night if she could. 

"Of course we don't." He pointed a finger towards the horizon. "But well into spring and at the beginning of summer is the best time to watch Saturn. Trust me, if you liked Mars and Venus, Saturn is going to leave you speechless." 

Jemma sat up straighter, looking towards where Fitz was pointing as if she could somehow see it with her own eyes. "Can we really see its rings?" 

"Yes! And even some of its satellites."

"We might even be lucky and discover a new one!"

Fitz laughed and Jemma joined him, the prospect of scientific discovery, however unlikely it was, making her feel more drunk than any wine could ever do. 

"We'd call it FitzSimmons, wouldn't it be nice?"

"Well Fitz maybe..."

"What do you mean? If we find it when we're together, there would be no reason for me to get all the credit."

Jemma tilted her head to the side as she studied his face. She wasn't quite sure if she found it sweet or if she was bitter that Fitz was so oblivious to the realities of the world she had to live in. 

"I mean that whoever is in charge of officially naming those wouldn't name it after a woman."

"Oh." He frowned and Jemma could almost see the cogs in his brain turn. Fitz liked to fix things but even with all his goodwill and intelligence, she didn't think he could fix _that_ , not on his own at least. 

"Well, if we find a satellite, at least I'll have a say in how it's named and I'll tell them I want it to be named Fitz-Simmons, I don't care!" 

"Oh, Fitz," Jemma said, a wide smile spreading over her face as she took his hand and gave it a little squeeze. Sweetness, it was all sweetness. "What would I do without you?"

His lips pulled into a crooked grin. "You could always threaten whoever tries to steal your satellite with a curse?" 

Jemma sighed. 

"What? People are still saying that?" 

"Now more than ever. They think we've been spending too much time together and it has to be because you bewitched me." Jemma grinned. She had to admit it would be practical sometimes. Not that she would ever use anything like that on Fitz. They already had the most perfect relationship she could hope for. "Of course, they don't think about the obvious possibility that you're the most interesting person this town has ever seen." 

Jemma felt her cheeks heat up despite the cold air. Fitz always said such lovely things as if they were obvious. And it always did something in her chest when he looked at her so tenderly when he said them. She cleared her throat and let go of his hand. 

"Well, I'm afraid this satellite is going to have to wait a little longer to be discovered. I should probably get home, try to get some sleep." 

"Of course," he replied. "It'll be easier to discover it in a few months anyway. Do you want me to walk you home?" 

She shook her head. "I'll be fine walking from the lighthouse. But I'm going to need help if I'm going to stand up gracefully." 

Smiling, Fitz took her hands in his to pull her up but he was apparently stronger than he looked and with the silly little heels of her boots, her momentum pushed her right into his arms, her face inches from his and his hands ending up on her hips. Fitz's eyes widened and he seemed frozen for a long moment before moving his hands to her shoulders and then taking a step back. 

"Sorry, I--" 

"You should have asked me if you wanted to dance." 

"What?" 

Jemma laughed. 

"I was joking." Although, she had a feeling a ball with Fitz would be much more interesting than any she had ever attended. With him, she wouldn't have to pretend to be interested in the decor of the room or count the minutes until she could go back home to her books. "It was my fault, those silly little boots are not made to walk on the sand."

"Ah...um...yes. And I guess I just don't know my own strength." He let out a nervous little laughter. "Shall we?" 

After that, they delicately put Fitz's telescope in its case and made their way towards the lighthouse. With her arm looped around his, they continued talking until they had no choice but go their separate ways. It was the best possible way to end the day and if Jemma had a choice, that was how she would end each and every one of them.

* * *

"And I've never seen her once in my shop. What kind of young lady doesn't need flowers to decorate her home? It's bad enough she lives alone." 

"One who picks her own flowers?" Fitz offered. 

Mrs Smith and Mrs Fiddle shared a disapproving look that Fitz didn't quite understand. Also, he was starting to reconsider needing to buy groceries today. Maybe he should just forage for his own food and see about harvesting his own sea salt if it prevented him from coming here and having to listen to the latest gossip every week. 

"No, I'm telling you, Mr Fitz, there's something wrong with her. I've heard all kinds of rumors. You should be careful." 

"You mean other than the ones _you_ make up?" Fitz asked and he had to bite his lip not to grin at Mrs Fiddle's reaction. She was obviously outraged at his insinuation, however true it was, but she also obviously still had hope of having him propose to her poor daughter Bessie. Sometimes, Fitz wondered if he should do the poor girl a favor and tell her mom she was more interested in kissing the neighbor's son on the beach than in marrying a man almost ten years older than she was. But that might just get her into trouble. 

She just let out a little nervous laughter as if Fitz had made a funny joke. 

"We don't even know what she's doing all day, alone in her big house," Mrs Smith added conspiratorially. "I mean...when she's not out there spending time with unmarried men."

Fitz rolled his eyes. "Oh you know, mostly reading and lamenting her lack of husband. Along with the occasional baby eating of course." 

There was a long pause, both women looking frozen and horrified and Fitz was tempted to leave it there. But they might actually believe it and it would make life even harder for Jemma. Except for Elena, the smithy's wife, she hadn't made any other friend in town and, as much as Fitz loved having her all to himself most of the time, it was selfish of him. Jemma was the most wonderful person he had ever met and he wanted other people to see it. 

"I'm kidding," Fitz said and they both burst out in a fit of very embarrassed laughter that he took advantage of. "Well, I better get going now, have a nice day ladies." 

And before they could drag him into another ridiculous conversation, Fitz packed his groceries in his bag and walked out of the little shop.

* * *

"So what did I do today?" 

Fitz startled at the words, looking all around before Jemma walked out of the shadows of the narrow streets he was just about to turn into. 

"You startle unsuspecting men when they just go about their day. I'm pretty sure there's something witchy about that." 

Jemma rolled her eyes before giving him a bright smile and looping her arm through his as they started walking again. It always did something funny and warm in his chest when she did these kinds of things as if they were perfectly natural. They certainly felt that way and her easy affection was one of the many things he adored about her. 

"Also, it's apparently very suspicious that you don't buy flowers from Mrs Smith's shop." 

"The ones I find in the woods and by the beach are much prettier." 

Fitz grinned.

"Thought so. Also, don't be surprised if people look at you strangely when there are infants around."

"What?" Jemma exclaimed, frowning as she stopped walking for a second. 

"Never mind," Fitz said, shaking his head. "Do you want to come to the lighthouse now? I have time to show you around if you want." 

"Oh that'd be lovely but not this time I'm afraid. I have...um... work to do."

"Oh." 

"But I can walk you to the lighthouse," she said, holding on to his arm a little tighter as she gave his shoulder a playful bump. Her voice had this soft tone that Fitz absolutely loved and which meant she thought he was disappointed. Which he was a little because his days weren't quite as interesting when he didn't get to spend time with her. But he wasn't angry with her, he understood that she had other important things to do. 

But sometimes, he was just...curious. As much as he hated all the gossip about Jemma going around in this town, he had to admit that he wondered about her sometimes. About what she did, where she came from, what she did all day. He knew her parents didn't approve of her way of life so it meant that she probably had to pay for everything she had on her own. But how? He knew she loved science and doing experiments and knew a lot about a lot of things but it wasn't like she was using those skills in any way that could earn her a living. Not that he knew of at least. And she seemed so busy all the time. She'd been asking all kinds of questions about the lighthouse and wanting to see it but they still hadn't been able to find a moment where she had time _and_ it was a reasonable hour for a young woman to follow a single man to his home away from the rest of town.

"Of course," he said. "Always a pleasure to be escorted by the most mysterious lady in town." 

"Keeps the potential brides at bay," Jemma added.

"Absolutely. So what are you working on today?" 

"Oh...um... I need to sort out the notes I took on the experiments I made with the plants I've brought back from the forest yesterday. It's very promising and I need to take care of it before it slips my mind." 

Jemma wasn't the kind to let anything slip her mind but that was fine. They had only been friends for two months. She probably had her reasons for not telling him everything. And he was planning on doing all he could to finally earn her complete trust. They made their way to the lighthouse through the small cobblestone streets, trading stories and deciding on the next time they would have tea together. 

When they reached the long alley leading up to the lighthouse, they said their goodbyes and, as always, Fitz placed a kiss to her knuckles before letting go of her arm. He knew it was a little ridiculous among friends but it always made Jemma's face light up rather charmingly. And if there was someone he wanted to provoke a smile for, it was Jemma Simmons. 

"Pretty bird you got there mate." 

Fitz startled and sighed as he noticed the man leaning against the wall of _his_ lighthouse. What was it with people wanting to startle him today?

"She's not a bird, she's a lady and she's my friend."

"Wow, wow, wow," the man said, lifting his hands up in a gesture of peace. "Sorry mate, didn't mean anything by it. You're the lighthouse keeper, yeah?"

Fitz frowned as he gave the stranger a once over. He had a rather elegant suit and a Londonian accent that didn't quite fit with his unshaven face and overall too casual attitude. Fitz had never seen him before so he must have come with the ship that made port the previous day. He was also carrying a pen and a little notebook for some reason.

"Who's asking?"

"Lance Hunter, journalist," he said, extending his hand for Fitz to shake. 

"Fitz and yeah, I'm the lighthouse keeper."

"Then you must know of everyone who arrives in town. Bet you see everything from up there?" The man nodded towards the top of the lighthouse. 

Fitz rolled his eyes. Was the man playing dumb on purpose and why didn't he ask about what he was really interested in instead of wasting his time asking stupid questions?

"Well, I see _boats_ coming in but it's a small port anyway. Most people come from the road, if they come at all."

"Right." He seemed disappointed, his too wide smile faltering for a second before recovering. "Well, the man I'm looking for must have arrived from England about four months ago. The name's William Harvey."

"Doesn't ring a bell. What does he look like?" 

"Well, that's the question my friend. He's very mysterious and no one has ever seen him except for his publisher. But I've been told his mail is now sent to this little town. So if I manage to find him, learn a bit more about him, it would make me quite popular." 

Fitz frowned. "Was it really worth the trip from England?"

"Oh yes it was. He's a very popular author. His novels sell like hot cakes. Look him up."

Fitz chuckled. This stranger was really overestimating how easily books were available in this town. At best, he could have one ordered from Portland and get it in a month. 

"Well, thank you for your help," Mr Hunter said as he walked around Fitz. "If you think of anything, you'll find me at the inn." 

"Will do," Fitz replied before turning around and getting his key out of his pocket. He didn't really mean those words though. Whatever reason had pushed this supposedly rich man to come live in a quiet little town of Maine, Fitz was willing to bet he wouldn't take kindly to having a journalist snooping around asking questions about him. If Fitz understood something, it was the need for privacy. Although with Jemma, the mysterious man and now this Lance Hunter character, their town was getting less quiet and more interesting than Fitz ever thought it would.


	3. Chapter 3

Jemma smiled as she turned the corner into Main Street. Today was shaping up to be a good day. Her experiment on acids had been a success. The results had been even better than what she was expecting, meaning that this afternoon's work session should be very productive. In fact, her whole life had been really good recently. She lived in a lovely house that was entirely her own. She spent her days doing exactly what she liked and, despite her reputation, she had even made a few friends. Elena and her husband were lovely and it turned out that Daisy, the young woman who worked at the toy store with her father, thought that Jemma's reputation was in fact a very good reason to befriend her. Which, in turn, had immediately endeared her to Jemma.

And of course, there was Fitz. She suspected he was the main reason for her disastrous reputation. Not that he didn't try his best to make people appreciate her, but since the town seemed to be run by mothers with unmarried daughters and Fitz was by far the most eligible bachelor, Jemma was seen as a threat to eliminate despite their relationship being perfectly innocent. The two of them had been spending more and more time together since they had met almost three months ago now and Jemma couldn't have been happier as Fitz truly was the most wonderful person she had ever met. But they were only friends, best friends even. Nothing more. 

Although... 

Sometimes she found herself missing him even when they had only seen each other a few days before. And there was a warm feeling in her chest whenever she saw him and sometimes a little shiver down her spine when his fingers brushed her skin or his bright blue eyes lingered over her face. And she loved that he always smelt like the sea. Once he had put his hand under the microscope, joking about the fact that he'd always wondered what he was truly made of and she had almost expected to find out that he was in fact made mostly of sea salt and biscuits. Sweet, sweet Fitz. But it wasn't like all those women thought. Fitz was just a bright, passionate soul and anyone lucky enough to capture his attention the way she had was bound to feel a little overwhelmed by it. 

Jemma was pulled out of her reverie by the sound of a very distinctive english accent. Lance Hunter. She couldn't believe he was still here. It had been almost a month and Jemma didn't like the attention he was directing at her. She had come here to start a new, quieter life and she didn't want her old life catching up to her because of one curious man whose intentions were still unclear.

She was just wondering if fresh bread was worth having to talk to that man again when the decision was made for her. He turned around and flashed her one of his charming smiles from across the street. It was like he had eyes in the back of his head. The street wasn't crowded enough for her to pretend not to have seen him so she smiled back. The remnants of her proper young lady's education, she supposed. If an unmarried man smiles at you, smile back and then try to find out how rich he is. Jemma continued on her way to the bakery, hoping that maybe he would let her be and not try to talk to her this morning, but he caught up with her halfway there.

"Good Morning Miss Simmons, mind if I walk with you a bit?"

"No law against that I'm afraid," she replied, willfully ignoring his offered arm, which only made him smile wider.

"So, how is your day going Miss Simmons? Doing anything interesting?"

"I am, but nothing of interest to you," she replied with a too sweet smile. Technically, she wasn't wrong. She doubted Mr. Hunter was interested in any of her science experiments. And if he ever did take an interest in it, he would quickly realize that it was in his best interest not to. "You know, proper young lady's occupations."

He chuckled as he shook his head. He had good instincts, she had to give him that.

"Of course…" He trailed off. "Listen, you're too smart for this so I'm not going to bother you any longer and just cut to the chase."

He pulled out an envelope from his pocket and handed it to her. It wasn't sealed and there was no name on it. Jemma frowned.

"My employer has an offer for you so just read it and—"

"Your employer? You mean The Times, right?"

"Just read it, Mr Simmons, it's in your best interest."

"I'm not who you think I am, Mr Hunter!" Jemma protested and he just gave her an annoying knowing smile.

"Sure. Well then it'll just be nonsense to you and you can throw it away. But if you take it and read it, I promise not to bother you any longer." Jemma squinted her eyes at him. "Unless you happen to know the person it's addressed to and that person happens to be interested in its content."

"It's not addressed to anyone," Jemma said as she finally took the letter from his hands.

Mr Hunter just grinned and offered his arm once more. "Shall I escort you to the bakery?"

"How do you know I—"

"That's my job, Miss Simmons."

"Being strange and inappropriate, you mean?" 

"Funny you should say that because that is how people talk about you around here." 

Jemma glared at him. It was one thing to say it behind her back but to tell her to her face? Hadn't he received any proper education at all? She was about to tell him exactly that when she noticed a friendly face across the street. Her favorite one. 

"Not all of them," she said, a small smile pulling at her lips, the joy of seeing Fitz already starting to make her forget the annoyance caused by Mr. Hunter.

"Ah, of course, Mr Fitz," Mr Hunter said with a knowing tone Jemma didn't like one bit. "Does your suitor know that you're in fact—"

"Not my suitor and I think I'll find the bakery on my own, thank you. Goodbye Mr. Hunter."

And with that, she turned around and quickened her pace as she started walking towards Fitz. Her day had started splendidly and she was going to make sure it continued that way.

* * *

Fitz walked up the cobblestone street wearing what he hoped was his most convincing scowl. He just had to stock up on a few things to prepare for the coming storm and then, hopefully, he would find Jemma home so they could spend a little time together. She had been especially busy these days, working on experiments he still wasn't quite sure he knew the purpose of, and depending on how bad the storm was, he wasn't sure how long he'd be stuck up there. And it would only get worse in the next few months with the storm season approaching. If only it wasn't completely scandalous to even consider and if he knew what she was really working on, he'd set up a lab upstairs for her and they could go through the storm together. He could tend to the lighthouse's fire and work on his latest machine while she worked but they would still have hours to talk about everything together without being interrupted and he could finally show her the ocean in its full glory. Fitz shook his head to try to get rid of the smile that had settled on his lips without him even realizing it and resumed his scowl.

It wasn't like him to think like that. He had always enjoyed being alone. And as he noticed a few too sweet smiles directed at him, he remembered that he still did. Jemma was just an exception. Being alone with her was now his idea of perfection. But even though the long hours they spent over tea at her place, the long walks and their late evenings watching the stars would already be considered scandalous by some, Fitz knew he couldn't invite her to spend the night at the lighthouse. However innocent his offer would be, he knew that would mean crossing a boundary. A boundary he wouldn't care about crossing, he'd never given much thought to what people thought of him, if he didn't have some rather more than innocent feelings for her. Oh there was still a strong friendship that he didn't want to risk and Jemma had been clear about the fact that she didn't want to marry. But he just couldn't help himself with the way he felt whenever she was close. Her brilliant mind and contagious enthusiasm always set a fire inside him and when she touched him or looked him in the eyes, it threatened to consume him entirely.

As absorbed by his own thoughts as he was, Fitz almost didn't notice Jemma as he turned the corner towards the bakery. But he frowned when he realized she wasn't alone and in fact talking with that annoying journalist Lance Hunter. What was he still doing here? Obviously, the man he was looking for wasn't in town and he must have been given false information. And what would Jemma know about him anyway? She was the newest in town. Unless he had started giving credit to some of the most ridiculous rumors about her and decided that he should make his trip to England worth the money. Those had been getting more worrying as time passed. The accusations of witchcraft were too ridiculous for anyone to take too seriously but now there were rumors that she was some sort of black widow because, of course, murder was the only explanation for why a woman would live on her own in such a nice house. He was ready to come to her rescue but, as always, she seemed to be doing just fine on her own. Her face showed signs of annoyance and something he couldn't quite decipher from afar, as she said a last few words before walking away. The bright smile she gave him reassured Fitz but he still didn't like the smile on the man's face as he watched her walk away.

"Fitz! I didn't expect to see you today," she said, sounding delighted to be wrong. "Thought you'd be preparing for the storm."

"I still have a few hours," he replied before taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Jemma's cheeks turned a little pink as she looked around. There were indeed more people around than when he usually did it and he took a step back as he let go.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he looked down, feeling like a child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"That's perfectly alright," she reassured him. "And adorable as ever."

Fitz chuckled as he noticed the envelope in Jemma's other hand.

"Did he give you something?"

Jemma frowned.

"Lance Hunter? The letter in your hand." 

"Oh. Ah…um…no. It's just…" She looked confused for a second before shaking her head and smiling. "Silly me! I had this letter to send and I forgot to write the address." 

Fitz smiled. That didn't sound like her at all but he supposed he tended to forget everything else as well when he worked on something fascinating. 

"I was…um… I was actually planning on coming to see you this afternoon. See if you had a little time to spare. It's been too long since we've had tea." 

"It was a week ago," she replied with a slight grin. 

"Well, yes. That's what I just said. Unless you had something else to—"

"No," she cut him off. "Nothing that cannot wait a few hours. Escort me to the bakery and then you can tell me all about your week over lunch?" 

Fitz offered his arm and she took it. "Sounds perfect."

<hr>

"If my calculations are correct, the light should be visible from almost twice as far during a storm." 

"Twice as far? Fitz, that's amazing!" 

Fitz ducked his head in modesty but he was indeed rather proud of himself. 

"And do you think you'll be able to build it?"

"The town counsel has already approved my proposal and budget. Mind you, it's mostly for the prospect of attracting more ships and thus more business to our town than out of safety but..."

"It'll be wonderful to see it built all the same."

"Yes," Fitz said with a smile as he reached for another biscuit. "Those are delicious!" It wasn't really a normal thing to have biscuits with lunch but Fitz would have to leave before tea time and Jemma knew how much he loved those. And neither of them cared for propriety anyway. 

Jemma smiled as she pushed the plate towards him. 

"So when do you think you'll start building it?"

"I'll go to Portland to buy the parts as soon as the storm's over. Hopefully they'll have it all and I can start building it as soon as I'm back!" 

Jemma laughed as she looked at him with a soft expression in her eyes.

"What is it?" 

"Nothing, just...I never thought I'd find someone else with such an enthusiasm for science… who was willing to share it with me."

"Ah yes, well…" Fitz trailed off, feeling his cheeks heat up under her gaze. He had been working on the new mirror mechanism for the lighthouse since before he met Jemma and he was rather excited about finally being able to build it but talking to her about it was so much nicer than doing it in front of the dreary old face of the town counsel's members who only cared about money. "But what about you? What's this experiment of yours that has been keeping you away from me for a whole week?" 

Jemma raised her eyebrows as a playful smile played across her lips. Oh. He should really be careful with his words or he'd end up letting out more than he meant about his feelings. But after a second, her smile turned softer once more as she tilted her head to the side.

"Oh, it's fascinating," she said, standing up and walking towards her lab. Fitz followed, knowing better than to interrupt when she started talking about her experiments. "I've been testing chemical reactions between substances one can easily find in every household or in nature and some reactions have been a lot more powerful than what I expected. I created a very potent acid by mixing fertilizer, vinegar and chlorine."

"Oh and what use would you— Oww!" 

Fitz was so focused on Jemma who somehow managed to walk while looking back at him that he didn't see the table and bumped his hip quite hard against it, making a few vials and beakers sway dangerously. 

"Oh careful with that, these things will kill you!" Jemma said, running to stabilize all the vials and letting out a little sigh of relief when it was done. She was grinning when she looked up at him. "Good thing the town's gossips can't see this or they would really think I'm a witch, right?"

Fitz chuckled as he still took a few steps back. "So um… What are you going to use it for? Not going to get revenge on the town's gossips, are you?" 

She laughed as she shook her head but there was that little sparkle in her eyes that had endeared her to him the first time they met. She was smart enough to know exactly how to do it, she was just too good to hurt anyone.

"Oh…um, well I'm planning to write about it. Warn people about the dangers of these products. Hopefully have it published."

"Oh that would be wonderful. Do you know where it could be published?" 

She seemed to hesitate for a moment. Fitz didn't doubt for a second that her work would be worthy of publication but the academic world being what it was, he was afraid that her name could be a problem. 

"I've had a few papers published in London actually. I'm hopeful they would be interested in this one as well."

"Jemma, that's fantastic! Why did you never tell me this? Can I read them? Do you have them here?" 

"I…um… It's just that it's been a long time and I don't have them here. But I could ask my parents to send them in my next letter if you want." 

"Of course I want to."

She smiled timidly. There was something strange about this. Since the first day they met, Jemma had been proud of her work. He'd seen her lab within an hour of knowing her and they had spent countless hours discussing science together, so why on earth did she never mention that she had been published already? As time passed, Fitz couldn't help but be more and more curious about the mystery that was Jemma Simmons. He doubted a few papers published a long time ago would earn her enough money to pay for such a house, and even if it did, why hide the fact from him for so long? If anything, this new piece of information just added to the mystery.

"Alright, then I'll—"

A strong gust of wind slammed the door closed and interrupted her. Fitz looked through the window to see that dark clouds were quickly gathering on the horizon. He sighed. He supposed he would have to wait a little longer to solve that mystery.

"Well, I think it's time for me to go."

"Oh.Of course. Do you think the storm will last a long time?" Jemma asked as she walked him to the door.

"Hopefully no more than a day or two. I really want to go to Portland as soon as it's over. With winter on the way, I don't want to wait too long and risk being stuck in Portland by another storm."

She looked at him for a moment, long enough for him to start getting lost in her honey eyes, before finally speaking.

"You'll be careful."

"Of course I will, but you know there's no—"

He was cut off as she moved forward and wrapped her arms around his back. Fitz gasped slightly as he was taken by surprise by the gesture but he still had enough presence of mind not to ruin the moment and he quickly wrapped his arms around her. It felt at the same time strange —he hadn't been embraced like that a lot in his life— and wonderful. He was just tall enough so that her head would fit in the crook of his neck but not too tall that he couldn't smell the lovely scent of her hair. It felt natural, like they had been made for each other's arms. Fitz took a deep breath and sighed happily as he dared to hold her a little tighter. Her hands were always so cold that he hadn't imagined the rest of her could be this wonderfully warm. And it was so perfect that he knew this moment would keep him warm for all the days to come. 

"I'm going to miss you," she whispered against his shoulder.

"Oh me too, but it's only going to be… Me too, Jemma, me too." 

When she pulled back, she remained close for a moment, her lips slightly parted as she looked up at him. Fitz's heartbeat picked up, feeling frozen on the spot with his hand still on her waist and feeling incapable of tearing his gaze away from hers. He'd seen such intensity in her eyes before, just never so close and directed only at him. 

"Jemma, I…"

"I-I have something for you..."

She ducked her head down and stepped back, and just like that, the moment was over.

"Wait here," she said before turning around.

Fitz didn't move until the sound of the kitchen door opening got him out of his daze. He shook his head and, as he stepped back and hit his hip against the small console behind him, knocked over some papers. He was a klutz on any other day but with Jemma around, embracing him like she had, he was surprised he wasn't much worse. What would have happened if she hadn't run away? What did it even mean? Was it a thing that friends of the opposite sex did? Did she regret it? With the way she had looked at him, Fitz had almost thought that— 

Fitz's thoughts went to a complete halt as he noticed the name on two of the envelopes he'd just picked up, some mail that Jemma somehow hadn't taken the time to open just yet. William Harvey. And it wasn't like it was delivered to her by mistake, the address was her own. A sinking feeling in his stomach threatened to overwhelm him but before he had more time to think about it, Jemma was back from the kitchen.

"Here, take those with you, you'll have something sweet to remember me by when you're up there," she said, pushing the box filled with lemon biscuits in his hands with a big smile. "I know you'll have eaten them all within a day or two but it's still… Fitz?" 

She frowned when he failed to react as he should have to such a kind gesture. 

"Is there something wrong?" 

"I…um…no. I just got lost in thoughts." 

"Oh. Alright…" 

"Oh and thank you," he said, smiling despite the worrying thoughts swirling around in his brain. "Those are delicious."

"You're very welcome," she answered, still looking a little confused. "So I'll see you after the storm then?" 

"Of course. After the storm."

And with that he was out the door, looking back towards Jemma one last time before hurrying down the street to avoid being caught under the rain. It was a good thirty seconds before he heard the door close but it was only halfway to the lighthouse that he realized he hadn't kissed Jemma's hand before leaving. It broke his heart to think of how she must have taken it, but whatever these letters meant, one thing was for sure, he didn't know who was really Jemma Simmons and until he did, he had to protect his heart. 


	4. Chapter 4

It rained all the way back from Portland. It wasn't the kind of heavy, deafening rain that Fitz enjoyed in a strange sort of way up there in his lighthouse. No, it was a weak but steady rain that seemed to mock his internal turmoil. It turned the scenic roads of coastal Maine into a boring, grey backdrop that forced him to spend all those long hours alone with his thoughts.

He had left for Portland the moment the weather got better and had stayed there four days, waiting for the parts he needed to be ready. Usually, he would have been sad at the idea of not seeing Jemma for so long but this time, he thought it was probably better. 

Ever since he'd left her that afternoon, he'd been turning things around in his head, trying to make sense of those letters he'd seen and reconcile these thoughts with the Jemma he thought he knew. He'd even gone to the library to find something about this William Harvey, maybe learn something that would make everything clearer. But all he could find was a book about blood flow with disturbing illustrations in the medicine section. And all he learned about him was that he'd been dead for about two hundred years. So unless his ghost had now decided to write fiction, either there was another writer with the same name or maybe he wasn't a writer at all. Maybe Lance Hunter was looking for him for another, darker reason. 

And as the days passed without the possibility of getting an answer from the concerned party, Fitz's thoughts started straying towards all those silly ideas he'd shaken his head off at so many times. 

What if Jemma was indeed a black widow? What if she'd killed her husband and disposed of the body? She had proven that it was something she could easily do given the research she was conducting. He hated himself for thinking that but why did she hide so many things from him? He had thought there was something special between them and after the way she'd looked at him that day, he'd even let himself hope that maybe there was more. But was that even real? He didn't hide anything from her, except his growing feelings, and she knew just as everybody else that he had quite a big property and comfortable income. Could it be what she wanted from him? Had the fondness and affection he'd so often seen on her face been fake?

And that was how he'd spent the long road back from Portland. Instead of being excited and anticipating how he was going to put together his new mirrors, his thoughts just ran around in circles for hours going from suspecting Jemma of the worst things then hating himself for it and back to suspecting her. When he finally made it home, the rain still falling steadily, he felt sad and exhausted and only had the energy to bring the crates of new parts up to the lighthouse before falling into a troubled sleep.

* * *

The following days didn't bring any kind of solace. He was working much slower than he usually would because of his troubled thoughts. And he knew he should just go and talk to Jemma, but the truth was that he was too afraid of the answer. Whatever it was, he was terrified that it would change things between them and crush his hopes. So he chose the cowardly way, busying himself at the Lighthouse and lying to himself as he pretended he didn't have the time to go and see her anyway. A few days after his return from Portland, he'd even seen her from afar in town. His heart had leapt at the sight of her, practically carrying him to her of its own volition, but his head and worrying thoughts had made him turn back and walk away.

The decision to finally talk to Jemma or not was made for him on a stormy evening a week after Fitz's return from Portland when a loud knock startled him out of his thoughts. The rain had started falling and it would soon get worse so Fitz hurried down the stairs.

He gasped when he opened the door. Jemma was waiting behind it but her face was shadowed by the large hood she was wearing, looking like one of the mysterious characters from a penny dreadful.

"Hello Fitz." Her voice was as gentle as ever but with a hint of something he'd rarely heard from her before. Uncertainty. "Do you have a moment to talk?"

"Of course," he said after a few seconds of hesitation. He couldn't avoid her forever so it was best to talk now and then, he would have the rest of his life to deal with the truth, however awful or disappointing it was. 

Fitz stepped aside and let her come in, closing the door behind her as she started up the stairs. She looked back over her shoulder a few times with a timid smile that Fitz couldn't help but reciprocate. Of all the ways he'd imagined he would finally show her his lighthouse, he never thought it'd be in these circumstances, with such a tense distance between them. It made him both sad and angry. At her for having all these secrets and himself for not finding the courage to go and find her sooner.

"You can sit here," Fitz said, directing her to what served as a living room once they made it upstairs. "I'm going to make some tea. Do you want biscuits or maybe—"

"Did I do something wrong?"

"What?" Fitz said, stopping in his tracks and slowly turning around to look at her. She wasn't sitting. She was in fact standing quite close, looking at him with a deep frown between her eyes. 

"Did I do something wrong? Or said something wrong maybe? You were…strange when you left the other day." 

"No, it's just that—"

"And you've been back for days but you haven't come to see me. I've seen you in town but you disappeared before I could reach you so I thought maybe, there was something I did that day that was…" She looked down for a few seconds and her cheeks were pink when she looked back up into his eyes. "...too much." 

"Oh. Oh no, that-that was…alright. More than alright." Perfect. The most wonderful thing in the world. "But then I saw your mail." 

"My mail?" Jemma repeated, frowning and Fitz took a few steps back. He couldn't think properly when she was so close, her sweet lavender scent invading his senses.

"I didn't do it on purpose, I wasn't looking for it. It just fell and when I picked it up, I saw that it was addressed to William Harvey." 

"Oh."

"And between Lance Hunter still asking around about him and talking to you and what's everyone been saying, I don't know, I…"

Jemma shook her head as an amused smile spread across her face.

“Oh, I see. So I killed my rich husband to buy a beautiful house with his money and then bragged about knowing so much about the human body and all kinds of poisons, is that it? Not the smartest one, am I?”

Fitz looked down, realizing that it would in fact not be very smart of her. And one thing he was still sure about was that Jemma was incredibly smart.

She gasped as she stepped back, leaning against the table. “Oh my god, you actually believed that.” Her voice had lost all trace of amusement and it looked like all the colors had been drained from her face.

“No!" he said, wincing as he knew it wasn't true. "I mean I don't know. I was confused. I know so little about your life before you came here and about what you do all day or how you can afford to have such a house... And then I find those letters addressed to another man that no one had ever seen and I—”

“I am William Harvey.”

“What?”

“He's not a murdered husband, he's me.”

"Jemma, I don't understand…"

"Oh, Fitz," she said but the words carried none of the fondness they usually did and her eyes had lost their usual warmth when she fixed them on him. "I managed to get into university to study biology and chemistry when I was eighteen. One of my professors offered to get some of my articles published but suggested I use another name. A man's name obviously. So I picked the name of the scientist whose work I used as reference for my article. Apparently, academics would be scandalized by a woman writing about such a subject but won't raise an eyebrow at an article written by a man who's been dead for two-hundred years." Jemma chuckled humorlessly before continuing.

"Anyway, I started writing fiction based on what I had learned, found an publisher who actually loved it and when _he_ suggested I use another name, well you can imagine what I did. When the books became popular in London, people started asking questions and had somehow found out I had something to do with the mysterious William Harvey. And even though a part of me wanted them to find out so that I would finally be recognized for my work, I just didn't like them intruding and I didn't want to lose my publishing contract either. So I left. I thought this place could be a chance for a new beginning, a place where people didn't know me, where I could work in peace." She sighed as she gave Fitz a sad smile that broke his heart. "I thought I had found so much more but, obviously, I was mistaken."

God, what had he done? Why didn't he listen to the voice that told him there had to be a reasonable explanation? One that made sense with the woman he'd grown to know and love. And why didn't he go to her the moment he was back from Portland rather than let the wound fester?

She cleared her throat before stepping away from him.

“Now that it's settled, I’ll leave you to your lighthouse and terrible thoughts. It was nice to know you, Mr Fitz…For as long as it lasted.”

“No wait!" Fitz said, grabbing her arm to stop her. "I’m sorry. It's just that if you had told me from the start, I would have never—"

Jemma pulled her arm from his grasp and he felt like her eyes would have sent bolts of lightning if they could.

“Oh please, don't pretend it's the same! I wasn't sure I could trust you with my biggest secret. You thought I was a murderer! In fact," she said as she pulled something from under her coat. "I was waiting to have a first draft of my latest book done to show you b-because… Well, it doesn't matter anymore, I was wrong once more. You can keep it." 

And with that, she pressed the heavy stack of paper into his hand and turned around to start down the stairs. _A Light in the Darkness_ was written with a typewriter on the front page along with the mention _by Jemma Simmons, a.k.a William Harvey_.

The second page started like this. _Mr Fitzsimmons, lighthouse keeper and unofficial repairman of the village of Derry, was an interesting man. Everyone agreed to that, although not necessarily for the same reasons._

The book was about him. God, he truly was the most terrible man in the world and he had ruined his relationship with the most wonderful woman in the world. He had to try to fix this.

“Jemma, wait! I'm sorry, please be careful in those stairs, they can be—”

“It's Miss Simmons to you,” she cried out, already halfway down and moving farther away from him with every passing second.

* * *

Jemma tried to keep the tears at bay as she hurried down the stairs. She knew she couldn't hope to outrun him for long with her shoes and skirts but if she made it out of the lighthouse, maybe he wouldn't dare run after her in town. Not that her reputation could get any worse, even Fitz thought she was a murderer, but she didn't need to cause a scene on top of everything else. But in the meantime, a part of her really wanted him to follow. She'd known something was wrong when he left without kissing her hand. For more than two weeks, she'd tortured herself wondering what she'd done wrong and her heart had hurt from missing him so much. And now, after what he'd said and what he thought of her, she still missed him and hated him at the same time. She wanted to leave and never see his face again and she also wanted him to convince her to forgive him. 

The wind had picked up when she opened the door and the heavy droplets of rain hit her face harshly. There was no use trying to put her hood on under such wind so she just marched on, the rain soaking through her clothes already, making her feel as cold outside as she felt on the inside. Water was dribbling down between the cobblestones and her skirts tangled in her legs as she hurried down the path leading to town. She had made it halfway when a strong gust of wind made her hair fly in front of her face, blinding her and making her lose balance. She slipped on the cobblestones and fell forward, moaning as she felt her ankle twisting. 

"Jemma!" Fitz was by her side before she even had the time to straighten up. 

“Leave me alone, Fitz," she said, voice shaking from pain and anger. "Why would you care about a cold blooded killer?”

“Please," he said, kneeling by her side to look her in the eyes. "I’m sorry, I was an idiot. I was sad that you were hiding things from me but it was not an excuse. Deep down, I knew it wasn't true. I think I was just scared that you were married b-because... it would have changed things between us.” 

Jemma shook her head and a few tears finally fell from the corners of the eyes. It didn't matter, her face was already drenched in rain anyway.

"There's nothing between us anymore, you—"

He cupped her cheek gently, forcing her to look up at him. Curse his beautiful eyes, expressing more love and sadness that she could deal with at the moment.

“That may be true for you, but you have to know that you're the most wonderful person I have ever met and the best friend I've ever had.”

“Really? Then how could you—”

“And also so much more than that."

Jemma bit back a sob as her eyes filled with tears once more. Those were the words she had hoped to hear when she came to see him, hoping that maybe his strange attitude could be attributed to him needing time to sort out his feelings after what had almost happened the last time. To her it had been a revelation and she had felt stupid for not accepting her feelings for what they were much sooner.

Fitz wiped her tears with his thumb and the gesture was so achingly gentle that she couldn't help but lean into his touch.

"Please come back inside to wait out the rain. I'll understand if you never want to talk to me again after today, but at least let me take care of you now. You'll be sick and you'll hurt yourself even more if you walk home.”

She just nodded, feeling too exhausted and confused to speak just now. He helped her up and when her aching ankle made her whimper, he just picked her up in his arms. She wanted to protest, to tell him that she didn't need a knight in shining armor but the truth was that, even under this fierce rain, in his arms, she felt warmer than she had in two weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on Tumblr @agentofship


	5. Chapter 5

"Jemma?" 

She awoke to find Fitz's face close to hers, his expression soft but hesitant. She frowned as she struggled to remember where she was and what she was doing here, her mind still feeling a little fuzzy. 

"You fell asleep while I was making tea." 

Oh, right. He had deposited her on the armchair by the window once he'd made it to the top of the stairs. Her feelings were still a complicated mess where he was concerned but she had been quite impressed by the way he'd managed to carry her to the top without faltering and the way he'd smiled proudly when he thought she wasn't looking had been annoyingly adorable. But she must have been more exhausted than she thought because her eyes had drifted closed the moment he'd left her alone on what was, admittedly, a rather comfortable armchair. In fact, the whole place looked rather cosy, much nicer than what she'd imagined and perfectly fitting for him at the same time. The high window must bathe the place in light during the day and the whole room felt alive with his presence, a large desk filled with all sorts of mechanical parts, bookshelves filled to the brim and reproductions of Leonardo Da Vinci's drawings on the wall. Even the bed, with its white linen and thick blanket, felt especially inviting in her current state of exhaustion. 

"You looked so peaceful that I didn't want to wake you up, but your clothes are still drenched and I thought you might want to warm up a bit." 

He was really trying his best to gain her forgiveness and deep down, she already knew she would grant it. As hurt as she was now, the prospect of not having him in her life anymore hurt even more. She nodded as she straightened up but winced as moving woke up the pain from her fall. 

"Is it your ankle?" 

"Yes." In retrospect, it really had been silly to run in those boots in such weather.

"Let me see?" Fitz asked tentatively. She nodded and he gave her a reassuring smile before sitting down at her feet. 

With more gentleness than she thought possible, he untied the laces of her boot before pulling it off. She gasped when he took hold of her foot as pain shot through her ankle once more. 

"Sorry," he said, voice soft and a little shaky as he held her foot in his lap. 

"Fitz?" she asked after a moment. His breathing had quickened and it sounded strangely loud in the quiet room, even with how the rain outside looked like it was turning into another storm. 

"I…um… it would probably be better if I could see it without your stocking. To see if it's bruised or broken of course, nothing untoward. I wouldn't—"

"It's alright," she said, biting her lip not to smile at how red his cheeks were. Then his eyes widened comically when she didn't move to do it herself. 

"Oh I-I um...should I--"

"It's just my leg, Fitz," she said softly. Her stupid corset didn't allow her much movement anyway and she liked this new tension between them. Not the one born from their fight and the way he'd hurt her but the one born from all the things between them they had only barely started to put words on.

He looked down and, she supposed in a bid to preserve her modesty, slid his hand under her skirts, letting his fingers trail up blindly to find the edge of her stocking. But even through the cotton, his gentle touch made her skin erupt in goosebumps. With neither of them talking and only the light and sound of the fire crackling in the hearth, it felt more intimate than anything she had ever experienced. He finally found the fastening above her knee and she had to bite her lip not to gasp as his fingers brushed the sensitive skin of the inside of her thigh. She needed this to be over soon and at the same time, she had to fight the impulse of closing her thighs around his hand so he would never take it off. But Fitz was a gentleman and she still had a little self control so she let him pull the stocking down and off her leg. 

"Your skin's covered in goosebumps, you must be freezing," he said, looking back up at her. 

"Yes," she croaked. "Freezing. So how does it look?" 

He gently held her ankle higher and tilted his head to the side. 

"It's swollen and bruised. Can you move it?" 

She winced as she rolled her ankle. It hurt but it was bearable. 

"It's probably just sprained."

"Oh, I still have some of that ointment the doctor gave me when I sprained mine." 

He didn't wait for her to answer and gently deposited her foot on the floor before running to his tiny pantry. 

"Fitz, if you have bandages, it would help as well."

He hummed and came back with all of it a minute later. He took her foot and placed it in his lap with less hesitation this time. The cold ointment and Fitz's lovely hands were doing wonders and Jemma had to bite back a moan of contentment. A part of her was mad at him for being so caring and making her feel so good when she wanted to hate him. But she could feel her heart winning over her brain with every passing second and every soft touch from him. Finally, he finished wrapping the bandages around her ankle and he let go of her foot before standing up and taking a step back. 

"You should take your clothes off."

"What?!" she breathed out, feeling her cheeks heat up as much as his reddened.

"No I mean, they're cold and wet and... but I could lend you my robe, it's nothing fancy but it would protect your...um..." His eyes kept trailing down from her face to a little lower as he searched for his words. "Modesty."

Jemma had to bite her lip not to smile, which made him turn a deeper shade of red. The thing was that his touch had awoken something inside her, feelings, thoughts and desires which indicated that her modesty would be far from preserved if she followed them. And a robe seemed like too fine a barrier between her and what she wanted and it was dangerous. But the idea of taking all those useless layers of damp, cold material and slipping into something warm and dry was too tempting to refuse. 

Fitz remained by the window, his back to her, as she changed. When she was down to her corset and chemise, she hesitated for a minute but it was rather wet as well and with how late it was already and the rain that had turned into a storm, it was likely that she would have to spend the night and she couldn't hope to sleep trapped in this contraption. At least, she was wearing the one she had made before leaving London, which opened in the front. If she'd had to ask Fitz, she was afraid the poor man's face would have caught fire. Although… The thought of his strong, gentle hands on the skin of her back sent shivers down her spine and a fire settled low in her belly. 

Half of her hair had escaped her bun so she took it down entirely. She grimaced as she threaded her fingers through her hair. It would take a lot of time and pain to detangle it all. Sighing, she slipped on Fitz's robe and the slight scent of spice and something sweet made her feel like it was his arms embracing her. Securing the sash around her waist, Jemma took a deep breath and made a decision. A part of her was still sad and angry for what he had suspected her of. But the bigger part knew how good he was most of the time and how much he appreciated her for her mind and not just her name or pretty face. She knew she was always going to forgive him and she didn't want to wait any longer for it to happen, she didn't want this distance between them anymore, not after missing him so painfully for the past weeks. He'd been treating her as if she was one of those dangerous substances in her lab, ready to explode at any moment. And in a way, he was right, just not how he thought. 

She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist as she rested her face on his shoulder. He startled and almost twisted his neck trying to look at her but eventually, he just relaxed into her embrace, putting his hand on hers where they rested on his belly. 

"I've missed you so much," she whispered. "Don't ever do that to me again."

He squeezed her hand.

"I won't. I prom--"

"Don't promise, just do it." He nodded and squeezed her hand.

Jemma sighed as she breathed in his scent. So close, he smelt nicer than he had any right to be.

"Would you happen to have a hairbrush? My hair is looking very unladylike at the moment." she asked after a moment and he chuckled. It was a nice sound to hear after all the drama and she'd missed it just as much as she'd missed him.

"I have a comb." 

"That will have to do."

She moved away from him and he turned around, smiling as he looked at her.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, it's just…I'm not used to seeing you with your hair down."

She ducked her head. She must look frightful. "Oh yes, my mum would be horrified to see me like this."

He cupped her cheek to make her look up. "I like it. Fits your character." From any other man, she would have taken it as a criticism, from Fitz she knew it was a compliment. "Wait here," he said as he walked away from the window.

He came back with a chair and a wooden comb. "I'm afraid I don't have a proper mirror so the window will have to do."

She reached for the comb in his hand but he stopped her. "Let me?" he said, the low tone of his voice sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. 

"So I-I read a few pages of your book while you were sleeping," he said after a minute.

"Oh." 

"I-I liked it."

Jemma smiled at him through their reflection in the window.

"Did you really?" 

He nodded before ducking his head to start on another strand of hair. He was surprisingly delicate for a man but firm enough to untangle the knots in her hair.

"You're very talented. Also I couldn't help noticing that there was something quite… familiar about the characters, especially—"

"It's us, Fitz," she cut him off and he froze for a second, letting out a harsh breath before carrying on with her hair. 

She'd started writing the story soon after she met Fitz. A brilliant but unusual young woman and her lighthouse keeper friend investigating the strange behavior of the town's folk and uncovering their dark secret. 

"I would have shown you sooner but I felt like something was missing and I realized what it was only two weeks ago." Fitz reached for the hair that had fallen on either side of her face and she shivered as his hand brushed her neck. "I had to rewrite quite a lot of it but it's perfect now. I think so at least." 

"Oh. And what was it?" 

"Romance." 

"Ah yes. You mean-you mean…"

She took his hand as he was reaching for one last strand and placed it just above her heart with hers on top of it. 

"Because it felt like the only way to be true to the people my characters were inspired from." His hand trembled and he looked up at her, the storm outside reflected in his eyes. "Fitz?" 

"Jemma…" 

"Did you mean what you said earlier?" 

"Every word." 

He smiled at her through the window, that smile she knew and loved so much, and that was now so full of promises. He kneeled to press a kiss to the top of her hair, then her temple and her cheek and as she turned around to look at him, his next kiss landed on the corner of her lips. It was the lightest, most gentle brush of lips but it made her skin tingle from the root of her hair to the tip of his toes. 

"I'm sorry. I—"

She squeezed the hand still over her heart, pulling him around and closer before he could pull back. She cupped his cheek with her other hand, her eyes drifting to his lips for a second before looking back up. He took another sharp intake of breath and their lips met fully this time. Jemma let out a soft moan as his top lip parted hers and he captured her lower lip. It was utter perfection, his hand over her heart, his lips as they glided against hers, warm and soft. For a second, Jemma wondered how many women he'd kissed before —the only kiss a boy had ever given her had felt nothing like that— but then he slid his other hand into her hair and Jemma didn't care anymore. She parted her lips further and as their tongues met, sweetness turned to passion and the world disappeared around them. 

They were breathless when they broke apart and it took a few seconds for Jemma to open her eyes. But when she did, he was looking at her in a way he never had before. The desire in his eyes was overwhelming and it only intensified the sensation that had settled inside her, from her heart to her core. Her robe and chemise underneath had slid to the side, baring her shoulder, and Fitz bent forward to kiss it. 

"Fitz," she whispered and he did it again and again until she took his hand and gently pushed him back. 

"Jemma, I," he started but she used his hand as leverage to stand up and he gasped as she pressed her body flush to his, his desire now evident in more than one way. Pushing aside all the reasons why she shouldn't do it, she let her heart and body take the lead and, her eyes not leaving his, she pulled on the sash of her --his-- robe and let it fall to the floor. 

Fitz's eyes went a little wide before he let go of her hand and let his fingers trail up her bare arm slowly. "So soft," he whispered and Jemma whimpered as he brushed the inside of her elbow. He continued up then, her shoulder, her collarbone before finding her neck again. She tilted her head up as his thumb brushed her skin. It felt sinful and heavenly at the same time. She never knew a simple touch could make her feel like this, like she was going to catch on fire whether his hands went further or he stopped altogether.

Fitz captured her lips again, picking up just where they'd left off. "Jemma," he mumbled against her lips as his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her even closer. Her nipples tightened as they brushed against his chest and she moaned. But in her haste to get closer to him, she forgot her ankle and whimpered when she tried to push up on her tiptoes. 

"Jemma, I'm sorry, I thought—"

"Don't be, it's just my ankle." She cupped his cheek. "I want this, Fitz. I want you. Do you…"

"I want you more than anything." 

Their lips met in the middle as she wrapped her arms around his neck. As they explored each other's mouth, Fitz's hands slowly slid down her back before finally ending up on her bottom.

She moaned as she arched her body into him. His hands were wonderfully warm through the thin cotton of her chemise and when he kneaded the flesh tentatively, desire pulsed between her legs. "Fitz, please," she whispered against his lips as she pushed at his shoulders. But instead of walking backwards, he bent his knees and lifted her up. Jemma wrapped her legs around his hips and Fitz groaned as it brought her flush to the hardness in his trousers. He stumbled his way to the bed and deposited her on it as gently as he could. 

Her chemise had ridden up and as they roved over her body, Fitz's eyes looked like they could make it catch on fire. So she grabbed the hem and pulled it over her head to let it fall to the floor. Any ounce of timidity she might have had at being naked in front of a man for the first time disappeared when she met his eyes again. It was pure love, admiration and lust she saw there. Fitz practically fell to his knees in front of her and Jemma parted her legs to pull him close. Fitz's breath was hot against her lips but he didn't kiss her. He brushed his fingers on her thighs and moved up, breathing heavily as his eyes followed the progression of his hand. Jemma gasped when he reached her stomach. 

"You're so beautiful," he whispered against her lips, pressing the lightest of kisses there before moving to her jaw. She tilted her head back when he reached her throat, his kisses gaining in assurance as her breathing became heavier. When his hand moved up to cup her breast, she let out a soft whimper that turned into an all out moan when his lips closed around her other nipple. She put her hands behind her and arched into him, her voice becoming louder than the storm outside as he worshipped every inch of her chest. "So beautiful," he repeated as he started kissing his way down, leaving butterfly kisses on the sensitive skin of her stomach before sitting back on his heels. She opened her eyes to find him looking at her with lust but also something else she couldn't quite decipher in the dim light of the room. 

"Fitz?"

"I know I hurt you, Jemma."

"Fitz, no. Let's not talk about this now, I—"

"You're right. That's why I'd rather show you how much you mean to me." 

"Fitz?" she repeated, getting increasingly confused and frustrated. She needed his lips and hands on her. Everywhere. 

He didn't answer and instead smiled at her. His hands gently moved up her calves, leaving a trail of goosebumps and desire all over her skin, before he reached her knees and gently pushed her legs further apart. She bunched up the sheets in her fists as she felt his warm breath on the fine skin of the inside of her legs. 

He pressed delicate kisses starting from her knees and going up her thighs and Jemma's muscles tensed as he got closer and closer to her center. The first brush of his lips against her folds had Jemma whimper and when his tongue made contact, her skin erupted in goosebumps at the unexpected pleasure. She knew that was a thing people did and she knew it was supposed to feel good but she didn't expect it to happen now as most men weren't supposed to like it. It also made her wonder how experienced Fitz really was. But then Fitz lapped at her folds and pressed deeper to find the hardened bundle of nerves and all she could focus on was the pleasure making her whole body tingle. 

"Fitz," she sighed, her eyes closing as her head fell back. 

Jemma's world suddenly shrunk to this, his tongue, his lips on her, his strong hands holding onto her thighs as he slowly took her apart. At some point, Fitz did something with his tongue that made her eyes roll to the back of her head and moan out loud.

"More," she demanded and his hands slid up to grab her bottom and pull her closer to him. He groaned as he did it again and again until ecstasy overtook her, like a wave crashing on the shore, making her feel both breathless and more alive than she'd ever felt.

When she came back to herself, Fitz was pressing kisses to her thighs and as lovely as it felt, she wanted his mouth on hers now. In fact she wanted his whole body on hers, inside her.

She reached for his shoulders and pulled him up to crash her lips to his, pressing her tongue into his lips urgently. Her hands moved to Fitz's shirt, shaking with desire and anticipation as she pushed each button through its hole until she reached his waist. She let her hand slide lower and Fitz gasped as she closed her fingers over her erection. She moved tentatively and felt a thrill course through her as he surged against her hand.

Fitz straightened up and his kisses became more frantic, his tongue plundering her mouth as his fingers flexed on the skin of her bum. With one hand, she continued to caress him while she tried to undo the buttons of his trousers with the other. When it was enough to push it down along with his underwear, Jemma broke the kiss, looking down as she closed her hand around his erected cock. Oh, she'd seen countless illustrations but seeing it like that, very hard and very real against her hand was something else entirely. It was all for her and it brought her desire to a new height. She was in fact so entranced to see it twitch as she moved her hand up and down that she was taken by surprise when Fitz surged up and pushed her back until she was lying flat on her back and he was on top of her. 

Jemma giggled at his urgency until he shifted and his erection pressed right up against her folds and there was nothing funny anymore. She moaned and her legs wrapped around his hips to keep him right there.

"Jemma," he breathed out against her lips as he started moving his hips tentatively. She reached lower, grabbing his bum to encourage him. His skin was soft and smooth there but the muscles were firm underneath. The pulsing between her legs was almost unbearable now and any remnant of fear or apprehension she might have were washed away by the love and desire she saw reflected in his eyes.

"Jemma," he repeated between two kisses. "I-I need to--"

"That's alright, I'm more than ready."

"No, it's not- I mean that too but..." He hoisted himself up on his forearms to look down at her with something close to despair mixed with lust and love. "I need you to know that I've never...done this. I've never been with a--"

"You haven't?"

"No, there's never been anyone I-- No one like you, Jemma."

And there really was no one like him either, able to break her heart and put it back together, making her feel whole and like she hadn't really been alive before, all in the same day. She'd have questions about how he came to know how to do the things he did if he was still a virgin but those could wait until later.

"Then I'm glad we'll get to experience this together." She cupped his cheek to bring his lips to hers. The kiss started gently but with their bodies pressed together, lighting every one of her nerve endings on fire, it quickly grew urgent and messy and absolutely perfect. His hands were travelling from her breasts to her hips, gripping her thighs to pull her tighter against him. It was all so good it was almost overwhelming but it was also not nearly enough. She finally understood what the fuss was all about. It had never seemed like she was missing much by being unmarried. From her experience, kissing was boring and she could only surmise it was the same for what came once you were married. Most men were boring and only interested in her family name and money anyway. But then she had met Fitz and he had changed everything. So even if they only had one night and whatever the consequences, she wanted it. Wanted him. Needed him.

"Fitz," she mumbled against his lips. "Please..."

He shifted above her and Jemma gasped as he pushed in, the slight pain mixing with this overwhelming feeling of fullness taking her breath away. Fitz stopped moving at her reaction and her legs and arms wrapped around him of their own volition, not wanting a single inch of him to move away from her.

"Jemma?"

"Don't stop." She captured his lips again and he sank into her completely. As their lips glided against each other, hot and needy, the slight pinch faded away and was replaced by a desperate need for more. Fitz felt the same it seemed as he pulled back and pushed back in. Jemma moaned into the kiss. It felt so different from what he had done earlier or what she could do on her own. He felt wonderful inside her but it wasn't only that, the weight of him above her, his shallow breath, his overwhelming scent, Jemma felt like she could never get enough of it.

The storm was raging outside now and it felt like it was reflected in his eyes when he pushed himself up on his forearms and looked down at her. Jemma bit her lip at the sight of his face, impossibly beautiful in the midst of passion.

He did something with his hips that hit a special place inside her and had her gasp as her body covered in goosebumps.

"More!" she demanded, her legs tightening around his hips. Fitz practically growled and did it again, harder. Her eyes widened as it tore another gasp from her throat but then he did it again and again and her eyes drifted close as she focused on the increasing, incredible sensation starting from her center. Her hands moved from his shoulders to the sheet above her head, needing to ground herself as Fitz moved faster and harder with every one of her moans. Finally, her pleasure exploded, her muscles seizing around him as it seemed to travel all the way from her center to her toes and the roots of her hair. She gasped and whimpered as he continued to move through it and only when it receded, did Fitz grab her leg to hike it higher over his hip. Within a few seconds, Fitz was groaning his pleasure in the crook of her neck.

They remained like that for a long moment, Fitz leaving sleepy kisses everywhere he could reach and her running her hands all over his warm skin, enjoying the way his muscles tensed when she found a sensitive spot. There were things she wanted to tell him and things she wanted to ask him but there'd be time later. For now she wanted to savor this moment.

* * *

Fitz couldn't even remember when he moved off of her or when they'd fallen asleep. He remembered wanting to tell her how much he loved her and how much she meant to him. Even if she'd asked him to do and not say, there were things he just had to tell her, especially after he'd almost lost her. But when he opened his eyes, instead of finding her asleep next to him, he found a cold bed. Fitz shot up in bed, wondering for a second if he had dreamt it all.

"I'm here," she said softly and Fitz turned around to find her sitting by the window. A wave of disappointment washed over him as he realized she was all dressed already save for her shoes. But then she gave him one of those warm, special smiles he'd seen several times directed at him but that now had a whole new meaning, and he felt a little better.

"Are you leaving? The sun isn't even up yet."

"I have to. Or people are going to talk."

"But I thought we didn't care what people said. Are you-do you regret what--"

"Never," she cut him off. "It was...wonderful but we need to decide what this is before other people decide for us."

"But I know--"

"I just need a little time, Fitz."

Fitz's heart sank a bit at the thought that maybe she didn't want more than a single night but he tried not to let himself get overwhelmed by it. She'd trusted him after what he'd done and there was no mistaking the things she'd written about him or the look in her eyes as they made love. He owed her all the time she needed and he would accept any decision she made as long as she remained in his life. It might kill a little bit if he never got to hold her in his arms like he had the previous night but it would still be better than to lose her altogether.

"Alright," he just said with a smile that he hoped conveyed his thoughts.

She smiled back before looking down, biting her lip then looking back up at him.

"Would you mind helping me again with those?" she asked, nodding towards her shoes and Fitz smiled. He'd rather help her take something off than put something on but he'd take anything that kept her with him for a moment longer.

He got out of bed and put his trousers on before walking to her. He grinned when he noticed the pink on her cheeks as her eyes roved over him. That was a look he could easily get used to.

He knelt before her then gently took hold of her injured ankle. He wrapped his hand around it. It felt less swollen. "How does it feel?" he asked as he reached for her shoe.

"Better," she replied with a smile in her voice and Fitz looked up to find her grinning.

"What?"

"Nothing just... you're being very chivalrous."

Fitz chuckled.

"You just like me kneeling in front of you."

Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red and lust coursed through him as he remembered how she had moaned the last time he'd been kneeling in front of her. He'd never thought time spent listening to the sailors at the pub would come in quite so handy.

"Cannot deny that," she replied, her voice lower than it'd been just a second ago.

His hand slid up from her ankle up her calf before reaching the edge of her stocking.

"Fitz, that's not...reasonable," she said while not making a move to stop him.

He'd just learned what it was like to touch and make love to the most wonderful woman in the world. He didn't want to be reasonable. He wanted to hear her moan and sigh for the rest of his life.

He moved his hand up higher up her thigh, pushing her skirts up in the process before bowing down to press a kiss to her knee.

"Fitz, I..." She trailed off as he moved towards the inside of her leg, her mouth slightly open and her chest rising and falling rapidly doing wonderfully distracting things to him.

"The sun won't be up for another hour." She bit her lip as he trailed his fingers over the fine skin of her thigh. "You're the one who said to show, not tell."

She chuckled as she cupped his cheek. "But you already--"

"A lifetime wouldn't be enough to show you the depth of what I feel for you."

"Fitz," she whispered, her voice tremulous and for a second, he thought he'd done something wrong and she was about to cry. But instead, she pulled him up and pressed her lips to his in a passionate kiss. Fitz's heart soared.

He didn't know what would come next for them but for now, he was happy to have her all to himself even if it was only until the sun came up.


	6. Chapter 6

Fitz looked at his reflection in the window and grimaced. He looked like he was going to a funeral. That was ridiculous and it just wasn't him. Sighing, he untied the knot around his neck and threw the cravat on his bed. He'd combed his hair and would have shaved if Jemma didn't like a little stubble on his cheeks so much. He still wore his nice shirt and trousers so it would have to do.

The fresh air and the sound of waves crashing on the shore usually calmed his nerves and helped him think, but this time there was only one thing that would do it.

It had been weeks since he'd been stupid enough to almost lose her and had gotten her back in the most wonderful way. Jemma had said she needed time to sort out her feelings and Fitz had of course given her that. He would give her anything she wanted or needed. He just hadn't planned that while she was sorting out her feelings and what she wanted to do about them, things would be so...carnal. That first night they'd spent together had unlocked something and now it seemed as though they couldn't spend an hour together without throwing themselves at each other. When they talked about science, Fitz used to marvel at how her brilliant mind worked, and he still did, but now it also made him want her, made him want to kiss her senseless and have his hands all over her wonderful skin, and make her cry out in pleasure in ways that would most definitely give credit to those rumors that already existed about them.

Fitz didn't know if Jemma had time to completely sort out her feelings but where he was concerned these past weeks had only confirmed what he'd known for longer than he cared to admit. He was hopelessly in love with Jemma. He didn't want to spend another day without her and it felt like it was something she needed to know to make her own decision.

Fitz was getting close to Jemma's house when he saw someone come out of it. Lance Hunter. And he had on a rather pleased smile that made something twist inside Fitz's guts. With everything that had happened between him and Jemma, Fitz had completely forgotten about Hunter. But he'd been on to Jemma's secret from the beginning --he was smart, Fitz had to give him that-- and that look on his face could only mean one thing. He'd somehow gotten confirmation from her and god only knew what he was going to do with it.

"Mr. Fitz," he said, flashing him one of those supposed charming smiles that quickly turned into a knowing smirk as he gave Fitz a once over. "Paying your good friend Miss Simmons a visit?"

"What are you doing here? If you--"

"Fitz!" Jemma called out excitedly. "Come on in quickly, I have wonderful news!"

Fitz frowned, looking from Lance Hunter to Jemma, her eyes sparkling and holding her shawl tightly over her shoulders, back to Lance Hunter.

"Well go on then, don't keep the lady waiting," he said with that same smirk. Fitz wanted to tell him off and to mind his own business but Jemma was indeed waiting for him and looking very eager. So the annoying journalist would have to wait. He still gave him one last glare as he walked past him before hurrying towards Jemma. She took his hand and pulled him inside before closing the door behind them.

"Jemma, what did you mean by--"

She cut him off with her lips on his and her arms around his neck and Fitz forgot everything about nosy journalists and gossiping villagers. And as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, his doubts and insecurities disappeared for a moment.

"Good morning," she whispered breathlessly against his lips when they finally broke apart.

"Good morning," Fitz replied, feeling his heart melt as she gently threaded her fingers through his curls, messing up the work he had done trying to tame them.

"I've missed you," she said, pressing one last light kiss to his lips before stepping back. Fitz laughed.

"We spent the whole day together yesterday."

"Well yes, but my bed gets awfully lonely and cold at night when you're not there."

He blushed at her words and it was her turn to laugh. It was silly to react like that given all the time they'd spent together in said bed (or on her settee or the living room table or...) but he was just never going to get used to Jemma talking about it so casually.

"So...um...what did that snake want?"

"Snake? Oh no, he's not that bad...not at all really."

"He isn't?"

"Oh that's right, I forgot to tell you with everything." She took his scarf and put it on the coat hanger before sliding her hands under the lapels of his jacket and Fitz took it all the way off. "So handsome today," she said as she took it from him and hung it on top of his scarf.

"Jemma, what did you forget to--"

"Come on," she said, taking his hand, leading him to her lab and practically pushing him onto a chair.

She sat facing him on the edge of her chair, practically bouncing with excitement.

"Lance Hunter isn't a journalist, he works for a publisher in London."

"Oh."

"That time you saw me talking to him, he gave me a letter from his employer offering a better deal than the one I have with my current publisher."

He took her hands. "Oh that's wonderful, Jemma!" It wasn't surprising at all. Jemma's book was the best thing he had read in years and it only had very little to do with the fact that they were both in it. "Did you take it?"

"I said I had to think about it." Fitz raised his eyebrows. "It was a good deal but they're a new publishing house, they don't have the same reputation my current one has."

"And that's what you said that made him smile like that?"

Jemma smiled fondly. Somehow, his grumbling and mumbling never seemed to bother her.

"No." She squeezed his hands tightly. "He had a conversation with his employer and suggested a much better proposal. The same deal but I would be publishing my books under my own name."

"Really?"

"Yes! If Mary Shelley did so can I! We'll reveal William Harvey was me all along. And given the type of books I write, he thinks people will love the mystery of it all and I agree."

"Oh. So he's really not that bad, is he?"

Jemma's smile turned wider and Fitz was the one who shifted to the edge of his chair lest Jemma ended up falling from being so visibly excited.

"Not bad at all actually."

"So. Are you going to take his offer?"

"I don't know. I think so. It might be time for a little change."

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. He loved the way she greeted him now, obviously, but he still loved the way her cheeks turned a little pink when he did this. "I'm very happy for you, Jemma."

They smiled at each other for a moment longer, not talking, just taking each other in and for every second that she looked at him with those sparkling eyes, Fitz fell more and more in love with her.

"So, why did you come to see me today?"

"What?"

Her smile turned wider. "Why did you come? Not that you need a specific reason to come here. You're always welcome, but I thought you still might..."

"Oh. Right." His brain really wasn't functioning properly when he was with her. "Well, considering what you just told me, this might be the most inopportune moment to tell you this."

Two lines appeared between her brows. "Fitz, is everything alright?"

"A Light in the Darkness by Jemma Simmons sounds wonderful but what would you think of Jemma Fitz?"

“Why would I… Oh." Her eyes widened as her hands became limp in his for a second. "Fitz, are you proposing to me?” 

“I am. Very badly so. I'm sorry, I should have postponed. Let you enjoy this victory but I found the courage to do it and I don't know if I'll find it again. I know you said you weren't looking for a husband and I know you still need time to sort out your feelings but I just want to be with you, in any way you'll have me and I needed you to know it. Don't answer me now, take all the time you need, I'll be waiting for as long as—"

She threw herself at him before he could finish his sentence and pressed her lips to his in a resounding kiss.

"Yes, Fitz, I love you and I want to marry you." 

"Really?"

She rolled her eyes as she let out a happy little laugh. She was practically kneeling in front of him so Fitz slid down his chair to join her. After all, he was the one who was supposed to do that.

“Yes!" she said, cupping his cheek gently. "I wasn't looking for a husband, I was only looking for a friend and I found something better than any of that. I found you.”

Tears pooled in his eyes. "Jemma…"

"I know I said I needed time because I was still a little hurt. But I don't need more time to know I want to be with you all the time and never spend another night without you." The tears fell down Fitz's cheek. "And I want the whole world to know you're mine. Especially Mr Fiddle."

Fitz laughed and cupped her face to kiss her again, slow and gentle. They had all the time in the world now.

"And I can't wait for them to know that you're mine and I'm yours. But you don't have to publish under my name, it'd be unfair after all the time you waited to publish under yours.”

“Fitz? Simmons is my parent's name. They're not bad people but they're not very forward thinking and they never supported what I do. But you have. Except when you thought I was a murderer," she added with a grin and he bowed down his head in shame.

"Oh god, I don't think I will ever be able to make up for being such an idiot."

She laughed and cupped his cheek to force him to look up at her. "I think you just might by being your usual brilliant and wonderful self."

"How about Fitz-Simmons then?"

"Jemma Fitz-Simmons?" She nodded and they shared a soft smile. "It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

* * *

"Grey clouds were gathering low over the horizon, the wind engulfing her skirts feeling like a thousand icy fingers. Jemma tightened the scarf around her neck and quickened her pace. The sky had still been blue when she had turned back and decided to make her way home along the shore.

Home used to be at the end of the road that started from the lighthouse but for months now, home had become not a place but a person. She had crossed the ocean to escape the London society and start anew in the supposedly quiet little town of Maine, hoping to be free to live her life the way she wanted to, with science as her only companion.

But if she had seen the worst in people here, she had also found something she didn't think existed, a kindred spirit. It had taken one conversation about the stars with Leopold Fitzsimmons to know he would be important but she hadn't known yet that he would become everything, her life, her heart and her home.

By the time she made it to the end of the beach, she was glad for the light shining on top of the lighthouse. But as bright as it was thanks to her husband's ingenuity, it was nothing compared to the light in his eyes when he opened the door to the lighthouse for her. It was supposedly scandalous for a lady to spend the night in the lighthouse, even if the keeper was her husband. But Jemma Fitzsimmons wasn't like the other ladies and she would brave a thousand storms as long as she was in her husband's arms. As long as she was home.  
The e--"

Her last word was cut off by her husband's lips on hers. She let the book slip from her hands as she turned more fully towards him and kissed him back enthusiastically. She couldn't believe they'd just spent an hour reading on their wedding night but as much as she always desired her husband and loved his desire for her, she loved him even more for how much he supported her writing and all her scientific endeavors. Although she had a feeling that things were soon going to be a lot more like she expected them to be on her wedding night. But the best thing was that she didn't dread this moment as she had every time her mother had almost made a marriage arrangement in her name when she was younger. She already knew this night would be just as wonderful as every one she had already spent with Fitz. And somehow it also felt new and exciting.

"I-I take it you liked it?" she asked breathlessly when they broke apart after a moment.

"I think it's the most wonderful thing I've ever read." He pressed his forehead against hers. "But I think this last sentence is wrong."

She pulled back to look into his eyes and he laughed at her affronted look.

"It doesn't feel like an ending. More like a new beginning."

It was her turn to laugh. "It's just how it's done, Fitz. You write _the end_ at the end of a book."

"And when have we ever cared about how things were usually done?"

"You know what husband? I think you're completely right."

And with that she pushed back the covers and left the room with her manuscript. Fitz groaned and called her name and when she grinned but didn't answer, he got out of bed and followed her. She went down the stairs and sat in front of her desk. She'd just taken her fountain pen out of its case when Fitz walked into the room.

"Jemma? What are you doing?"

"You were right. I need to change this last sentence."

Fitz shook his head in amusement and came to stand behind her. Finding the last page, she scratched the last two words and instead added "And it was only the beginning."

"What do you think?" she asked as she looked up at him.

"Perfectly inappropriate. Now--" He took her hand to help her up and pull her close to him. "How about a proper wedding night?" he whispered against her lips.

She responded with her lips on his and her arms around his neck. There was nothing proper in the way he lifted her up onto the desk or the way they moaned each other's name in the silence of the home they now shared and Jemma wouldn't have changed a thing. They had their whole life ahead of them to be as strange, unusual and improper together as they wished and Jemma knew she was going to enjoy every second of it.


End file.
